Trapped Trine Tricolor: Red
by Syntia13
Summary: G1. All Combaticons hate Starscream... with one exception. Starring: Starscream, Vortex, restraints and knives. And Decepticon creepiness.


**WARNING!  
**This story contains slash, non-con, mentioned and intended torture, all-round Decepticon creepiness, and a little bit of robo-smut. Don't like it, don't read it.  
Still here?  
OK, then.

**Disclaimer:** Starscream and Vortex aren't mine.  
The first paragraph belongs to dunmurderin/kepulver (used with permission).  
The line "Who really needs a war academy degree at this point?" is from Lady Dementia's list of things Starscream doesn't want to hear. (I'm sure she won't mind).

**A/N:** Timeline - post S2, pre TF:TM.  
Inspired by a discussion on Padded Cell message board. They were playing 'justify my love', and this pairing caught my optic... gah, I mean, eye.

**Trapped Trine Tricolor: Red**

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It's not as if Vortex doesn't have reason to dislike Starscream. Yeah, the flyboy released him and his fellow Combaticons from prison, but he also subsequently got them beaten down by Devastator, exiled to an asteroid where he then abandoned them to their fate and THEN had the nerve to try and steal credit for their plan to destroy Megatron -- at least until it went south, whereupon the weasel turned on them _again_ and got them captured, imprisoned and reprogrammed to serve Megatron.

Oh yeah, easy to see why the Combaticons aren't exactly members of the Starscream Fan Club.

At least, that's what a human or an Autobot would think. But that's not Decepticon thinking.

Onslaught hates Starscream because he did all above, and much, much more, - and _he keeps getting away with it_. By all rights, Starscream should have been smelted long ago. To Onslaught's logical mind it is obvious that he'd long out-betrayed his usefulness. But no, there is no reprogramming or shooting through the laser-core for Starscream. No matter how deep the hole, Starscream always manages to dig himself out. By groveling, no less. It simply jars the Combaticons' leader cognitive functions. And the fact that a tiny part of his CPU is sitting up straight taking notes doesn't help any.

Brawl and Blast Off hate Starscream because he grovels. Or, to be more precise, because every time he does it, at least one Decepticon shoots the Combaticons a mocking glance, along with a remark of 'daddy in trouble' variety. And, unfortunately, they can't pound the words back down offender's rusty vocalizer, because the presence of groveling Starscream inevitably means the presence of one furious Megatron, and furious Megatron plus infighting equals a big hole through the infighters' frames.  
So they have to suffer being publicly associated with a piece of repulsive scrap they would rather spit on than stomp on. It's almost unbearable.

Swindle would remain pretty indifferent toward Starscream, if it weren't for the fact that Swindle likes Vortex. Kind of. In a _'I'd rather spend my time with him than the rest of the slaggers_' way. Or maybe just _'I'm less likely to get pounded by him than the rest of the slaggers_'. Either way, he kind of likes Vortex, and what Swindle likes, Swindle's greedy nature wants only for himself. While Vortex...

Vortex doesn't hate Starscream at all. That is, yes, he does - on the same tame level he hates everyone else, which is his default emotion and as such, doesn't count. And there are other emotions in him that Starscream inspires. For, let's face it:

Starscream is a conniving, backstabbing, loud-mouthed bastard. Vortex, a true Decepticon, appreciates.  
Starscream is Second in Command, and the Air Commander. Vortex, a power-hungry Decepticon, likes.  
Starscream can talk his way out of every mess he gets himself into. Vortex, a Decepticon survivor, admires.  
Starscream can screech and beg for mercy like none other. Vortex, a born interrogator, mentally squeals.  
And last but not least, Starscream has a voice that scratches along the audio receptors like a rusted nail. Vortex, never one to decline small pleasures of life, almost shudders in delight every time it screeches its way straight into his core-processor.

And so every time Starscream inevitably lands on his knees, facing the unfriendly end of the fusion cannon, Onslaught, flanked by Blast Off and Brawl, frowns and folds his arms, Blast Off and Brawl growl quietly into the air: "Stop groveling", while Swindle, hidden behind his bigger brothers' backs, elbows Vortex and growls: "Stop slobbering".

At which Vortex gives him a wounded/annoyed look and insist that he's not. And, in a way, he's right, lacking the necessary anatomical details. However, they both know that Swindle only uses human slang because the rest of the gestalt is unlikely to understand it. It wouldn't do to let the others know of Vortex's inappropriate attractions.

Conversely, on the rare occasions when the oh-so-annoying Air Commander foresees his inevitable downfall and flees from Megatron's wrath, the majority of Combaticons breaths a relieve, while Vortex goes to find a dark corner to sulk.

Until, one day, after a good long sulk, backed up by few cubes of high-grade, a random particle of inspiration strikes, and Vortex falls out of his chair, as he realizes that Starscream's forced absence might be precisely what he _wants_.

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A random tiny island had a visitor.  
A highly agitated, vocal visitor.

"Megatron is a _fool_!" Starscream explained to the local flora. The local fauna had long before fled, having a certain distaste of being shot at. "My plan was _superior_ to his!"  
Of course it was, all plans devised by him were best by definition. Unfortunately, 'the best' doesn't always mean 'good'. In this case, both Megatron's and Starscream's plans proved to be 'not good enough'.

It most definitely didn't have anything to do with the fact that Starscream tricked Ramjet, Blitzwing and Astrotrain into abandoning the original course of action in favor of following his own. Yes, the fact that the whole mission failed spectacularly was sole fault of the aforementioned 'Cons' incompetence.  
And Megatron's bad timing. How was a jet supposed to prove the brilliance of his strategy, when his immediate, very pissed off superior kept popping up at the worst moment? Starscream didn't even wait for the threats to start falling. He made himself scarce at the first sight of silver plowing through the roof.

Normally in such situations he only had to wait for a few days, or until the next crisis. He then quietly slipped back among the ranks, safe in the knowledge that Megatron would shoot him a hostile glare at worse, or would pretend not to notice at best, and the rest of Decepticons would ignore it altogether.  
This time, however, the unauthorized change of plans got more than a few Decepticons damaged, one of almost every tightly-knit subgroup, and judging by how thickly their threats and curses flew over the radio, he'd have to stay away until the repairs were made and forgotten. That meant two weeks at least. Slag it.

Starscream started unleashing another bout of outrage, unaware that it effectively drowned out the nearing 'whoosh, whoosh' of rotors. Consequently, he was caught by surprise when the air around him suddenly turned swirly and hostile.

The miniature twister took the Air Commander, flailing and screeching in indignation, carried him toward the center of the island, and slammed him hard against the ground. And to make matters even worse, before his spinning gyros had a chance to stabilize, Starscream felt a heavy weight landing on top of him, and when he raised his hands to shoot at the attacker, there was a faint 'click, click' and a magnetic tingle on his wrists. He gaped in shock at the clamps secured to his limbs. Each had a length of chain with a second energy-clamp, which, once activated, would seal itself to any kind of surface. A standard issue Decepticon field restraints. And before Starscream could wrap his CPU around the idea of these restraints used on _him_, someone did activate those clamps, and secured them to the ground just above the tips of seeker's wings. The chains yanked and dragged his hands to the sides and upwards, capturing him in a pose that resembled a crucified angel.  
A mad giggle sounded.

"What?!" Starscream finally got around to staring at his captor in fury. "Vortex! How _dare_ you restrain me?! _Release_ me, I _order_ you!"

Vortex laughed. "You can stuff your orders up your aft! Megatron said he wanted you dead or alive, or in any state in between!"

Which was actually a perfect truth. It was also a standard rant Megatron issued every time the Air Commander escaped his wrath, and nobody had yet acted on it, because everybody knew the war lord, once he calmed down, would be rather upset (to put it lightly) if somebody made a mistake of actually following that particular order.

Starscream, however, wasn't privy to that bit of information, and Vortex's statement got him rather upset (to put it lightly). "You _lie_!" He screeched, tossing about as much as the chains and Combaticon's weight would allow him. "Megatron _needs_ me! He is nothing without me!"

Vortex just chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that." He unsubspaced his toolbox and placed it on the ground within arms reach.  
"Megatron's sick of your constant backstabbing, Starscream. You've made yourself expendable." He leaned closer to his captive. "And Skywarp just can't wait to replace you."

Starscream all but howled in negation. "LIAR! Megatron would _never_ promote him! My skills have no equal! I'm _irreplaceable_!"

Vortex's visor gleamed maliciously. "The scrap-yards are full of irreplaceable mechs," he said, a direct quote from Onslaught. Then he flicked the toolbox open and selected a knife. "Say hallo," he said, presenting it to Starscream.

The ruby optics widened slightly. "You wouldn't _dare_!" Starscream hissed, fury and just a hint of anxiety in his voice. "I'm your superior! I'm invaluable to the cause!"

"The cause would be better off without you!" Vortex said with glee, measuring the seams around Starscream's cockpit with a professional gaze.

"You slow processored smelter reject! You know nothing! I'm the one who keeps this army together! I am Starscream! The pride of the Academy!"

Vortex sniggered. "Who really needs a war academy degree at this point?"

This earned him a whole string of obscenities, and Starscream's voice took on that delicious pitch that made his rotor spin.  
However, as much fun poking at the seeker's insecurities was, he had more serious business to attend to. His knife flashed through the air in practiced slicing motions, and two halves of the red chest plate clattered to the ground. He could have simply unlatched them, but where would be fun in that?

Starscream's reaction was just to yelp and switch from curses to dire threats of retribution, from both himself _and_ Megatron. Apparently, Vortex would be lucky to only spend the next vorn in repair-bay, and the next two in a brig. The Air Commander continued on his tirade, occasionally interrupted by a yelp of pain, even as Vortex gently dug in his chest cavity, seizing and pulling forward a few handfuls of wires. It wasn't until Vortex started very lightly scrapping along them with the edge of the knife, that Starscream finally fell silent, gaping at the interrogator with wide optics.

Vortex chuckled. This was the point at which the bots that Vortex was working on usually started laughing, sometimes asking him if he intended to tickle them to death. That was because they didn't know what he was doing. Starscream, on the other hand, knew. The deceptively gentle, repetitive touches were tuning the whole sensor array to its finest, focusing all sensors on the worked on area. After few minutes of this treatment the slightest damage inflicted on the exposed circuitry would be perceived as equally painful as a full blast from a fusion cannon.

Starscream knew this all. He had witnessed the procedure more times than he could count. And it finally got through to his processor, that, yes, Vortex was serious, yes, Vortex was crazy enough not to care about consequences, and yes, Starscream was going to scream and die under his knives.

Unless he could persuade him otherwise.

Vortex giggled triumphantly as Starscream started talking again.  
Pleas, flattery, whines, empty promises - the whole repertoire was unfolded, and finally, finally, _finally, _just this once, it wasn't for Megatron but for _him_.

It was great. So great, in fact, that Vortex had to change the angle of his rapidly speeding up rotor blades to almost null. He wouldn't want to be unwittingly lifted off his prey just when things got interesting.

He stilled the knife for a moment, just long enough to see the hope on his captive's face, and resumed his activities, relishing the screech of 'caressed' cables and the dismayed exclamation.

Starscream's breathing hitched with distress. His memory banks mercilessly informed him that Vortex was almost done with the lead-up phase. Already he could feel throbbing surges spreading through his entire frame with each stroke.  
He very much didn't want to be a subject of phase two: 'make them scream their vocalizer out'.  
And definitely didn't cherish the thought of phase three: 'try to make their spark sputter out from all the pain input'.

Vortex had managed to do that twice, and never stopped in his efforts to repeat the accomplishment.

Starscream jerked his hands as hard as he could. No good. The metal of his wrists bent slightly, but both clamps and chains held fast. There was no _fighting_ his way out.

Vortex was enjoying himself immensely. He really loved his work, and it was _Starscream's _open shell lying there before him. It was giving him such a kick that his engine kept skipping up and down through the gears.

Starscream's voice was growing more frantic, more desperate with every stroke, and Vortex started giggling again. He hadn't actually planned what he'd do with Starscream next, but the reaction of his own frame was giving him some creative ideas. There was a heat in his chestplate, rapidly spreading through his systems, flaring up his energy fields. They already were so dense they were more like two inches of full body protective layer than mere energy.

"Vortex, spare me, _please_!"

The voice struck him like an electric bolt, and Vortex almost dropped his knife in ecstasy. His rotor was kicking up a storm, and his hands trembled, and he knew precisely what to do about it. He leaned forward, pinning his captive with a burning glare, and, flattening the blade against his palm for a moment, he swiftly run his outstretched hands over seeker's open chest. He didn't make a physical contact. It was only his dense as engine oil energy fields that ghosted over the hypersensitive circuitry.

Starscream choked on a plea, throwing his head back with a surprised gasp.

With a stuttered giggle Vortex repeated the motion, and the seeker thrashed underneath him, uttering a cry that was everything but pained.

"I think you liked that," Vortex sneered, allowing his captive a moment to catch his breath - though not enough to speak up - before attacking him with non-touches again.  
Judging by the way the seeker was whining and arching up, it was a 'yes' to liking it.

Vortex chuckled triumphantly, and for a moment entertained himself with stroking out of the Air Commander a whole range of happy noises, each one sliding from the dark mouth straight into Combaticon's core-processor. Vortex moaned along, his visor dimming. Ah, this was so good!  
And it could be better...

He flipped the knife and dragged the blunt side of the blade hard across the wiring.  
Starscream screeched, almost throwing Vortex off with all the kicking and thrashing, and, best of all, his energy field surged like a solar flare.  
Delicious!

"You smelte--!" the seeker choked out, but didn't manage to complete the insult, for Vortex, leaning forward eagerly, duplicated the action on his other side. "ARGH!" Starscream jerked and kicked violently, and the next nanosecond Vortex found himself lying flat on the seeker's cockpit, face to face with his victim.

He felt their energy fields clashing, saw the other's optics brightening to pure white, and then Starscream's overload exploded through Vortex's systems like a nuke, taking him with it for a ride.

x-x-x

He woke up few cycles later, slumped awkwardly over Starscream's cockpit. He must have slid further forward and to the side, judging by the position he was in. The soreness in the tips of his blades told him that his rotor had hit the ground at some point; repeatedly, by the feel of it. But that little discomfort only underlined the wonderful afterglow of the best overload he'd had in _decades_. He'd have never thought that Starscream would be such a good lay.

Lazily, he heaved himself up, sliding back to once again straddle seeker's hips. He pressed his palms to the hot glass of the orange cockpit, and willed his vision to focus on Starscream's dark face. He saw the ruby optics coming on-line, and giggled.

And then he discovered what exactly it was that his rotors had hit, and he discovered it by having a null-ray gun shoved into his face, and a blue hand grabbing the dark protrusion of his chestplate, the remnants of the restraint still dangling from the seeker's wrist.

Starscream heaved himself up as far as he could with only one arm free, the furnace burning of his optic nicely underlining the ugly scowl. He adjusted his grip on Vortex and wedged the muzzle of his gun in the thin crevice between a mask and visor. Just about five inches behind that crevice, Vortex's CPU was brutally yanked back into coherency.

Null ray - CPU - this was _so_ not a good combination. Vortex giggled again, a nervous reaction this time. Starscream apparently didn't find the situation funny. He pulled the Combaticon closer, the muzzle of his weapon still stuck in place, its housing on his arm screeching a protest as it was bent out of shape by the movement.  
The sound of strained metal made Vortex's blades shudder a fraction. Starscream growled, the whine of powering up null rays filled the world, and all Vortex could think of was that, Hell, it was worth it.

For a moment all was still.  
And then, through the gurgles and static of his fritzing vocalizer, the Air Commander spoke.  
"Do it again," he hissed.

Fin


End file.
